


Take More Care

by defeatedbyabridge



Category: Samurai Sentai Shinkenger (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defeatedbyabridge/pseuds/defeatedbyabridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takeru knows him too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take More Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [borrowedphrases](https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/gifts).



A towel wrapped loosely around his hips, Takeru wandered from the bathroom across to where Genta knelt. He loved watching Genta work; he could understand at these times the light that came over Genta's face when he watched Takeru train.

(Takeru most certainly derived enjoyment from viewing Genta when he trained; however training was a more serious matter for him. Genta similarly worked hard during training, but took more obvious joy in it.)

Genta's long, clever fingers deftly rolled the sushi, pressing a plate for each of them. He had been preparing more meals for them lately, which was good of him. Not necessary by any means. The kuroko were skilled enough. But it was indeed pleasant to eat food prepared by his love's hands. It did not taste plain, these days. 

Takeru smiled, and noted something. He did not speak of it at this moment. "Was the cart well patronised?" he enquired, moving across the room to find his clothes. 

"Yes, Take-chan," Genta said cheerfully. "I was down by the water this afternoon! It was so pretty." 

"I am glad."

Takeru dressed quickly, then returned his towel to the bathroom. He settled down next to Genta on the plush white carpet, as Genta handed him a plate. It was red-gold. One of their wedding gifts. 

"Eat up!"

The sushi was most enjoyable. They spoke a little while eating, nothing particularly weighty, merely matters of reconnection, of domesticity, after a day spent mostly apart. Takeru had not thought himself particularly hungry, but he ate every piece, then stacked the plates tidily. He would call for a kuroko a little later. 

"And your hands?" Takeru asked mildly, as he poured water for them both. He wiped his fingers on the small towel next to the tray.

Genta shook his head. "Fine, fine."

Takeru sighed, and shifted, so that he could remove the tube from his pocket. He had not wished to spoil Genta's gesture earlier, but now... 

"I do not believe you, my love." He took Genta's hand in his, and settled it in his lap. The cream warmed as he squeezed a small amount onto his fingers. It warmed further as he began to massage it into Genta's palm. "You work too hard."

"I wanted to make a special dinner for us," was the mild protest in return, but Genta didn't struggle against him. Takeru watched his face for a moment, and saw the lines of strain ease infinitesimally. Good. 

"I like to eat your sushi. You should feed me," Takeru said immediately. He was rewarded with a soft huffing laugh. "However, any dinner with you is special. You must take better care of yourself."

Genta's free hand was suddenly at his temple. Takeru blinked at him, then begin to work the cream into Genta's fingers. "You should, too," Genta scolded. "You don't even know about this, do you." 

His fingers moved just a little, and Takeru winced. Ah. He had indeed bruised himself there during training. He managed a rueful smile. "Then, my love, you must care for me, and I must care for you." 

"That works fine, Take-chan." Genta's smile was not plain, either. It was brilliant.


End file.
